


and unto the king i bequeath the crown

by antheiabelle



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Light Angst, Post-Book 2: The Wicked King, Sort Of, cardan is mentioned in passing, ms holly black you're a legend and i stan unconditionally, t for jude's like usual half flowery half violent language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 02:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheiabelle/pseuds/antheiabelle
Summary: I wish I could drive a blade through his heart until his blood ran a scarlet river over my fingers.I wish I could kiss him.I am not a little girl anymore, and I do not stake my hope on wishes.





	and unto the king i bequeath the crown

I am Jude Duarte, kingmaker, Queen of Faerie. 

I am eating a reheated pizza slice that drips melting, plasticky cheese onto one of Vivi’s quirky garage sale plates.

The chipped ceramic is ringed in little blue birds, and I think of a time, only weeks past, watching the Lark boy in the bushes and Val Moren’s ancient eyes. 

I’m thin, still, fitting into Vivienne’s clothes like I never have before, all my human curves sloughed to nothing during my month in the Undersea. My sister’s willowy grace eludes me; I am but a pale, sick hollow of the seneschal and puppeteer I once was, and seeing my ghost in the mirror rankles deep in my core. 

Oak is at an exhibit at school, one I hadn’t the heart to leave the living room couch for even if he is my brother. 

Even if, for him, I should try to pretend everything is okay. 

I look out at the overturned state of the apartment, a kingdom of scraps and odd-ends for a foolish, trusting queen. 

I can’t believe I trusted him. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was right in front of me. 

_Power is much easier to acquire than it is to hold on to._

Sometimes, in my weakest moments, I go down to the shore, close to the sea as I can without the memories shaking me apart, and I watch. I imagine I can see Insear, the island Cardan raised from the sea like Mab herself. 

Sometimes, in my weakest moments, I wish that Cardan would come. I wish the High King would hold me in his arms and beg forgiveness. I wish he would tell me he loves me. Or hates me. 

I wish I could drive a blade through his heart until his blood ran a scarlet river over my fingers. 

I wish I could kiss him.

I am not a little girl anymore, and I do not stake my hope on wishes. Still, I twist the ruby ring on my finger, the only physical symbol of the vows we exchanged, of the pledge we made to each other. I comfort in the thought that it cannot be undone, that when I come for Cardan’s head and heart and crown, I will do so as the wife he wedded, and he will have to look me in the eye and know what he lost. 

He outmaneuvered me, as I did him to get him on the throne, and I wonder if he felt the same confusion, the same rage, when I betrayed his trust and tied him to the Blood Crown. I wonder that I did not see this coming. 

“Are you brooding again?” Vivi asks, hanging her keys on a peg at the doorway and tossing her coat over the back of the couch. “You look like you are.” 

My pizza has gone cold. I have nothing to say. 

Oak is yawning when I turn around, a small hand fisted at his mouth. His horns glint in the low light and I smile as evenly as I can manage when he meets my gaze. 

“Exhibit tiring?” I ask.

Oak nods, trodding sleepily around the couch to place his arms around my neck and kiss my cheek. 

Vivi takes his hand to lead him off to bed, and I hear him ask about Heather. I don’t listen for my older sister’s answer. I don’t need to anymore.

As I fall into restless sleep that night, I think of the last time I rested well. Of exchanging kisses with the High King, of doing so as his wife. 

Madoc’s gifted ring glitters unnaturally in the darkness of the room, too grand for living quarters full of grease and dust and humanity. I can’t bring myself to take it off. I reason that it is my hatred, burning bright as the ruby’s red glow, that prevents me from removing it and casting it into the sea. I know, in my heart of hearts, that it is the only bit of longing I will allow myself to show. 

I swear into the darkness that I will give Cardan a ring of his own. 

A ring of snowy, white roses, inlaid with thorns. A ring that will draw the High King’s blood until it stains the flowers red with violence and victory.

**Author's Note:**

> i just finished wicked king. i've got lots of emotions & thoughts & also i just really, really like holly black's writing style. it's the only first person perspective i have ever consistently enjoyed and had me literally caught for breath at the plot twists. anyways i've not a clue how to write a fix it so i just. emotional catharsis. thanks for reading!!


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